


Mishap

by AideStar



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Flug works himself too hard, Gore, Mutilation, Self-Indulgent, Torture Porn, now he pays the price
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 04:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AideStar/pseuds/AideStar
Summary: Late nights were common for Flug, and he wasn’t a stranger to some of the more grim consequences for his lack of sleep. However, he’d never fucked up quite so badly before...Flug’s experiment fails and he finds himself with one less arm to show for it and no one around to help.





	Mishap

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I’ve fallen into the the black hole that is the Villainous fandom so have a fic! I can’t guarantee future fics for this fandom, but since we got such great news last night we will see >:)

  
  It had been a long week. He sat back in his chair, the metal squeaking in the dark expanse of the lab, and rubbed at his sore eyes beneath his goggles. A few hours ago, or perhaps a few days, he’d shorted out the power in the lab and hadn’t bothered to reset the clock on his desk. The red numbers flashed at him, sitting atop an ever growing pile of paperwork and client orders. He felt a twinge of panic at the sheer amount of work, but it faded quickly seeing it had been a while since he’d seen his boss. A tired part of his brain reminded him Black Hat had gone on a business trip to some villain convention...  
  It was most likely late at night, since the lab diverted power from the lights around 3 am and they’d been off for a while. He should probably rest, but he was so close to finishing the new device and if he stopped now Dementia might wander in and break it. He just had a few more hours left and then he could pass out for a while.  
  He remembered the last time he’d overworked himself, the thought making him grimace. He’d spent 3 days straight on a project, and when it was finally finished, he blacked out halfway to his room. The bruise on his forehead had hurt, but not nearly as much as the teasing from Dementia. Black Hat hadn’t been happy with him either, which he never enjoyed. Even though it involved a lot less menace than it used to, the scolding and look of worry on his boss’s face made had made his heart heavy.  
  Of course it hadn’t been 3 days yet, so there was no need to worry about that. Shaking his head he got back to work, carefully soldering wires to the small circuit board. The last step was to connect power, which shouldn’t take too long. He checked each connection carefully, ignoring the sticky notes strewn across his desk warning against working with the more dangerous tools on little sleep. He pushed the soldering iron to the side, unplugging it as one note reminded, and opened the drawer to his right.  
  All he had to do was install the small nuclear drive and test the device, then he could rest. His vision blurred and he blinked a few times, wiping his lenses. With a small click the drive fell into place, and he quickly secured its metal covering. Loosely screwing the device together he let out a sigh, cracking his knuckles. Now to test.  
  He was proud of this design, especially after Black Hat’s interest in it. A small and discreet laser that could disable even the most powerful of heroes, like a stun gun. Only this one could also stun powers. No superhuman ability could withstand it, save for his boss’s. If it worked it could both disarm and disable any hero for hours, and that was profit. It was also good for Flug, seeing how he wasn’t exactly physically capable of defending himself against most people. A win-win, if it worked.  
  He took a deep breath and flicked the switch on the ray. It hummed, then lit up as power from the core began to divert through it. He watched as the device warmed up, nerves too strung out to feel much but dim worry about if it were to fail. That would mean another few hours, but he could do it. Despite the way his body slumped in the chair tiredly, he knew he could last a bit longer if he had to. Black Hat wouldn’t be back until Friday, and it was probably Wednesday currently, so he could still finish before the demon got back.  
  He didn’t have to. There was no deadline, yet... he didn’t know why, it was just hard for him to walk away before something was finished. He wanted to see the look of approval on his boss’s face. If he got it done before Black Hat returned then he might get to.  
  The humming seemed to steady as the device reached full power, and he picked it up carefully to see. Turning it around in his hands to inspect it, checking for all the lights to indicate which parts were receiving power.  
  “It looks good..” he mumbled to himself.  
  And then there was a bright flash.  
  
  He blinked, vision filled with white. It slowly, slowly faded to grey, and he distantly heard a tinny ringing. As the grey became black the ringing grew louder and louder, consuming his hearing. He shifted, feeling cold metal against his cheek. Had he passed out? It hadn’t been that long since he’d slept, had it?  
  The black slowly crumbled, ringing consuming his thoughts as he tried to roll over.  
  “Ah—“  
  The pain was immediate. A jolt of electricity raced up his arm, through his shoulder, seizing in his chest. He gritted his teeth, right hand springing up to grip his left. A horrible sting, then a burn flooded his senses as he slowly came back, vision beginning to adjust again to the darkness of his lab.  
  He’d fallen a few feet from his desk, lamp overturned and spilling light onto the floor. His chair rested a few feet behind him, tipped over, left side bent and slightly smoldering. The desk appeared fine, but he could see bits of debris from the device scattered about on the ground. His vision swam as the pain forced itself to the forefront of his mind, pushing any rational deductions out of the way. A horrible shiver ran up his body, making him jolt. Every nerve of his left arm was on fire, and he cried out in pain as it spiked.  
  Gritting his teeth he turned his head as much as he could to look and instantly regretted it. His stomach turned and a strangled cry left his throat as he realized what had occurred. The device had shorted and exploded, shrapnel littered around him and piercing him in several places, small pieces of glass and metal protruding from his shoulder and chest. That was manageable, but the mangled remnants of what used to be his arm, that was not.  
  Bone jutted out from the wound, dark marrow staining his coat along with a sickening amount of blood. There was skin and bloody pulp hanging from the bone, the entirety of his hand up to his wrist gone. The elbow down was grossly shredded beyond recognition, coming into a spike.  
  His dominant hand, gone.  
  He lurched away and retched, anxiety building on top of the adrenaline. He propped himself up with his right arm, gasping for breath, forehead pressed into the floor. Blood dripped onto the ground from the stump, heavy droplets splattering back up from the pool that had already formed. He couldn’t have been out long, smoke still rising from the chair across the room, but as his heartbeat replaced the ringing in his ears he realized that didn’t matter. He hadn’t eaten in days most likely, and he was generally anemic under normal circumstances. He was bleeding out, and fast.  
  His sneakers squeaked against the metal floor as he pushed himself to his knees, breathing quick and ragged. He needed to stay calm, if he had a panic attack now he’d most certainly die. This could be fixed, he just had to stop the bleeding and then...  
  He got to his feet, swaying with exhaustion. He’s so stupid, he should have gone to bed. He must have forgotten a resistor somewhere, the device overheated, he knew how dangerous it was to work with nuclear power even under normal circumstances. God he’s so stupid. He lurched into the wall and a horrible spike of pain consumed his arm. He leaned his body against the cold metal and tried to breathe.  
  With a blood-slick hand he fumbled with the first aid cabinet on the wall, eyes squinting in the darkness to make out the labels on each package. He found some gauze, Ace bandages, clips.. none of that would work for long though, he dimly reminded himself. If he bandaged it how much longer would he have? Dementia would be useless in a situation like his, and 505 didn’t even have thumbs. If it really was Wednesday then Black Hat would be gone another two days. This time that thought came with dread instead of relief.  
  He... He would have to do something more permanent. He glanced over at the wreckage by the desk, smears of blood and debris the only evidence of what had happened. There was no arm to reattach, only specs of bone and flesh and pulp. He, uh.. fuck, keep thinking Flug. His head swam as he looked back at the arm.  
  His coat was covered in blood and grease and other disgusting bits of debris. He sank back against the wall as another wave of dizziness took him. The stump ached and throbbed in time with his heart, blood falling in large streams to the ground as it tried to clot. His sneakers were slick with it now, and he vaguely wondered if he could be clumsy enough to slip on it.  
  “Desk..” he said to himself. He needed to get to the desk.  
  With a tired grunt he pushed off the wall and stumbled to the desk, slumping into the chair on its opposite side. He pushed the papers and clock off it, all clattering to the floor, paper getting stuck in the smears of blood there. With a grimace he reached over and rooted through his drawers, but found nothing remarkable there. He knew what he had to do, but the thought horrified him.  
  Hand shaking, he plugged in the soldering iron.  
  It would be a bit before it would get hot enough. He glanced over at his arm again and his breath shuddered in his chest. The pain was dimming as his brain tried to pull him under. He was used to pushing off sleep, he could do this, just a few more minutes.  
  With a pained hiss he shrugged off his lab coat, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. He wrapped the coat around the stump and pulled it tight, pain worsening and shivers wracking his body. His hand and feet were becoming cold and sweat beaded on his forehead. He reached up to wipe it away and realized his bag had also been damaged. He flung it from his head, raking his hand through his messy and slightly singed hair.  
  As the iron warmed the coat became dark with blood no matter how tightly he hugged it to his chest. He couldn’t just cauterize the wound with all that bone jutting out. It wasn’t clean, he’d have to.... fuck, he’d have to clean it and chop it down before he could...  
  He lurched to his feet again, hand gripping the chair hard to stay steady. He pushed through the doors at the back of the lab, going into the areas used mainly for his more sadistic experiments. The white hall quickly became smeared with red as he leaned his hand against the wall. Turning into a room he flipped on a switch, lighting the metal operating table.  
  Along the wall were cabinets, and he quickly looked through them for his tools. He couldn’t use any of the numbing serums they had stocked, all of them either laced or too strong to allow for self operation. Even a local anesthetic could be disastrous, seeing as he could accidentally sever something important. As if important things weren’t severed already.  
  Instead he went right for the saw.  
He stumbled back into the hall, saw in hand, and blinked the darkness from his vision. How would he do this? He couldn’t just saw the bone off, he needed something to steady his grip. Maybe one of the others could hold him down? If he hadn’t locked the lab door of course, which he had...  
  Once at his desk he pulled the chair around to the front and set down the saw. The air around the iron felt hot, but he ticked it up to the highest setting to be sure. The pain and delirium had long since eased his anxiety, and now he just sat dumbly in the chair, staring off at nothing.  
With a deep breath he unraveled the coat around his arm, not a spec of white left on it. The soaked garment fell to the ground and his eyes rested on the one solution he could think of. With grim acceptance he shifted and stuck the stump into the vice attached to the desk. He twisted the bolt and it tightened, blood gushing onto its metal slabs and the desk beside it. The arm felt like fire when he finally got it secure, and he wiped his hand on his shirt in a weak attempt to get it dry enough.  
  Before he could have second thoughts he grabbed the saw and positioned himself above the bone. His hand trembled terribly, and he tried to steady his breathing for what would come next.  
  With a thunk he buried the saw into the flesh above the mangled bone. Hot pain ripped through his arm and he sobbed. With a few gulps of air he began to saw roughly back and forth, pain nearly knocking him out. The sound was horrible as bone cracked and bloody flesh squelched. His nose clogged with the metallic scent of blood and as he bit down on his tongue his mouth filled with the taste.  
  It was a terrifying few minutes, hours, who knew how long. He only became aware when a weight dropped from his arm and a wet thud came from below him. He stared down at the bloody remains of his lower arm and his vision failed.  
  He blinked back to a fuzzy reality, saw on the ground next to the drying arm. He forced his heavy head up and saw the cleaner, severed arm still caught in the vice. Numbly he loosened the grip, fumbling for the soldering iron. It was covered in the metallic tin he used to solder, and he rubbed it off on his jeans, the searing heat marking his leg and singeing the fabric.  
  He set his head down on his desk and thrust the metal against the bleeding wound.  
  
  This time when he woke it was to a rough shaking. It felt far off, as if he were 6 feet below it, and the shouting was muffled with it. His vision was blurry and skewed off to the side, not seeing anything but the floor and wall to his right. There was a dark blur and he faintly saw Black Hat above him, face panicked and tears in his eyes.  
  “S-sir...” he managed, voice sounding foreign to his ears.  
  “Don’t speak,” Black Hat said, voice wavering. “You need to conserve your strength.”  
  He felt a pressure against his arm and a dull throb. There was yelling distantly, and slowly the pain faded into a dull weight. He blinked slowly and was suddenly being gripped in a tight hug.  
  “You idiot, you nearly died. I-I can’t believe you’d try to take care of this on your own. You could have called me...” the demon whispered. He lifted an arm to hold his partner, realizing it was his left. The flesh was pale and a sickly scar ran along the edge where it met his arm, but it was him. He hadn’t even considered calling his boss, hadn’t considered the demon’s abilities in this regard. Tears sprung to his eyes as the weight of what had happened settled on him, guilt and fear coursing through him.

  “I-I’m s-sorry..” he sobbed, hugging Black Hat back.   
  “Let’s get you to bed.” the demon picked him up, cradling his body close.

  With the exhaustion from the last few days and the nights occurrences, he fell back into a restless sleep.


End file.
